


shut up and dance

by simplyclockwork



Series: Tumblr Inspired/Prompted Sherlock Fics - Part One [22]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: AU + Trope + Prompt Challenge, Dancing, Fake Dating, First Kiss, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Spy!AU, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-10
Updated: 2020-01-10
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:27:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22201039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/simplyclockwork/pseuds/simplyclockwork
Summary: AU + Trope + Prompt GameThis one was requested by @mundancheemudomo on tumblrAU:#3 – spy!AUTrope:#6 – fake datingPrompt:#2 – “Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck this shit. Fuck!”
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes & John Watson, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Series: Tumblr Inspired/Prompted Sherlock Fics - Part One [22]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1528859
Comments: 6
Kudos: 67





	shut up and dance

**Author's Note:**

> title from _shut up and dance_ by walk the moon

“This is ridiculous,” John grumbled, pulling at the tie knotted at his throat. “How do I always let you talk me into these damn plans?”

“Hush, John.” Sherlock pulled a suit jacket over his shoulders, smoothing the lines of the fabric against his chest. “You know we have to get into the gala, and this was the only way.

“Sure, it was.” John’s annoyed mumbling was muffled as he bent over to tie his dress shoes. When he straightened, his face was red from bending down. “You _owe me_.” He pointed an aggressive finger into Sherlock’s face, and the taller man snorted.

“How about we don’t get caught, both stay alive, and we call it even?” 

John just rolled his eyes. When Sherlock turned to him, offering a hand, he glared. “Come now, John. The plan.” 

“Fuck, fine!” John grouched, taking Sherlock’s hand. They stepped out of the darkened room into a hallway. At the end, two double doors opened into a large ballroom of people, moving about the space in vibrant colours. Expensive diamond jewelry glimmered at throats, wrists, and sleeves beneath the orange light of a glittering chandelier. 

“I hate this already,” John announced, jumping as Sherlock slipped his hand over John’s back, around his waist. 

Sherlock’s only reply was a long sigh, and he pulled John out onto the dance floor with half-hearted resistance. They moved into a stately waltz. John’s face burned, and he stared over Sherlock’s shoulder, avoiding eye contact. Sherlock peered down at him, mouth quirked. “Is that because you are a terrible dancer?” Sherlock led John in a clumsy turn, John’s face glowing even redder under the guidance. 

“No,” John snapped, then looked sheepish. “Well, yes. Partially.” 

Sherlock’s eyebrows raised as he waited patiently for John to stop stepping on his foot. “Care to elaborate?” His voice was low, almost teasing. John ducked his head, fighting a smile.

“Not in the slightest,” he replied. Sighing, he tilted forward, face fitting into the dip between Sherlock’s shoulder and neck. “You smell nice,” John muttered, almost reluctant. Sherlock blinked, letting out a surprised laugh. 

“Thank you.” His hand curved possessively along John’s waist, cheek pressing into the top of John’s head. “It’s aftershave.” 

John snorted. “No, it’s not.” Sherlock lifted his head, tilting it to the side in a silent question. John stared up at him, lips drawn into a tight line as he seemed to struggle with himself. “It’s you.” He finally said, eyes darting away and back. Sherlock watched him in silence, a small smile playing across his own lips. John’s hand tightened, his grip on Sherlock’s shoulder, drawing them closer together. “Fuck,” he grumbled, face turning red again. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck this shit.” Sherlock just blinked at him, wide-eyed, and John let out a frustrated sigh. “Fuck!” he said, one last time, before seeming to make a decision. Raising himself onto his toes, he pressed his lips hard to Sherlock’s. 

Startled, Sherlock stumbled, almost spilling them over. He caught them both, the movement breaking them apart. But it was a brief separation, with Sherlock sweeping John back into his arms and reclaiming his mouth with eager teeth and tongue.

When they separated naturally, John’s face was flushed, and Sherlock was grinning. “Still hate this plan?” he asked, to which John rolled his eyes.

“Shut up and dance with me, you git.” 


End file.
